


Leaf Me Alone

by ozonecologne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Hate to Love, M/M, Professor!Cas, lawyer!Sam, mechanic!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 20:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6343357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozonecologne/pseuds/ozonecologne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘i got caught staring at my adult neighbour raking up a bunch of leaves in their backyard and jumping into them and now have to awkwardly pretend i saw nothing’ au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaf Me Alone

Dean usually raked the leaves. Castiel used a lawn service himself, but when he sat by the big picture window facing the street, he could see Dean Winchester’s shoulders flexing through his sweater as he handled the rake. Sometimes Castiel could see Dean’s lips moving; one time he went out to get the mail and heard Dean singing an off-tune version of “Renegade.” It was the best part of his afternoon to watch Dean shove leaves in plastic bags and haul them out to the curb as he hid his pink nose in the folds of a puffy scarf. The man was sturdy and sure in his movements and one of the most attractive people Castiel had ever seen in his life – of course he paid attention.

Dean usually raked the leaves.

But on the last Sunday of October, it was not Dean outside parading the rake around. It was his younger brother, Sam.

A broad tree of a man, Sam Winchester did not rake with the straightforward sureness that Dean did – with a determined pout and a line between his eyes – but leisurely, almost absentmindedly. He leaned against the top of the rake and watched a sparrow in the oak tree in front of the house, and Cas could see him purse his lips, whistling as he stirred a few leaves on the ground with his big toe. His long hair was tucked under a knit beanie, but he wasn’t wearing a jacket and his sleeves were rolled up, like he enjoyed the cold air. Dean was always bundled up tight like armor, and shooed bees away from his head as he worked. No nonsense.

When the leaves were raked into one big pile (at which point Dean would usually start shoving handfuls into the disposable bags for collection), Sam crossed the yard in three giant steps to lean the rake against the oak tree trunk, and then went back to stand in front of the leaves. Once he got there, he tentatively swiveled his head up and down the street. Checked to the right for people, checked to the left for people. When he found none, a grin stretched across his face, he spread his arms, and then he flopped down into the leaf pile.

Castiel watched him do all of this and found himself smiling as well. While his across-the-street neighbor had always been a bit of an enigma, an impenetrable wall of man-angst, his younger brother still had some childlike enthusiasm for the world. It was refreshing to bear witness to, like watching a lamp turn on in a dark room. Sam must have spread his arms up and down once, because the leaves ruffled before he stood up again, brushing the foliage from his front like nothing had ever even happened. Only then did he reach for the box of trash bags on the front steps.

Castiel set aside the essays he still had yet to grade and moved quickly to the kitchen. After all that exertion, Sam looked like he could use a hot beverage. Something sensitive in him appealed to Castiel, compelling him forward to be caught in the glowing orbit of yet another Winchester.

After slipping on his favorite beige overcoat and pouring some tea into a thermos, Castiel crossed the street and waved to Sam.

“Hey! Good morning!” Sam greeted cheerily.

Cas nodded in greeting and came to stand beside Sam, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. “Hello, Sam. I took the liberty of making you some tea.”

Sam’s expression melted into something grateful and shy. “Oh, thanks Castiel. You didn’t have to do that.”

Cas extended the thermos between them. “Please,” he insisted. “You aren’t even wearing a sweater.”

Sam chuckled and took the thermos gratefully. “Really, Castiel, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Of course.” He glanced at the leaf pile and the conspicuous man-shaped indent.

He flicked his eyes back up and Sam’s cheeks turned a little pinker. He took a self-conscious sip from the thermos and jerked his shoulders up in a shrug.

“It’s relaxing,” Sam defended.

Cas quirked the corner of his mouth into an amused smirk. “I’m sure it is.”

“Don’t tell Dean.”

“Don’t worry.” That would only ever be a concern if he and Dean were on speaking terms.

Sam took another sip from the thermos to smother a laugh and hummed approvingly. “What is this anyway? It’s really good.”

Cas inclined his head, pleased. “Ah, that’s chai. Some crushed spices, cinnamon, ginger, milk. My sister used to make it for me when I was sick.”

Sam made a surprised sound as he licked some milk from his lip. “I didn’t know you had a sister!”

Castiel said, “Yes, I have two.”

They talked about the weather a little bit, and work – Sam had just been offered a position at a prestigious law firm nearby, and Castiel’s students at the university were just getting into the swing of things with the new semester. They were both completely swamped, but Sam’s smile only got bigger as he and Castiel continued to chat. At one point, Castiel thought he might have narrowed his eyes, as if thinking very hard about something. The moment passed quickly.

He was enjoying another one of Sam’s animated anecdotes when a big, black car that Cas immediately recognized as Dean’s rolled up to the house. The car pulled into the driveway behind Castiel and the door opened; Dean was carrying two grocery bags and cast a confused look at the two of them standing by the messy pile of leaves. He frowned deeply in Sam’s direction.

“Dude, I told you to pick these up hours ago!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I heard you.”

Cas shuffled a bit uncomfortably, not wanting to be caught in the middle of one of the brothers’ infamous scuffles. Dean hadn’t even bothered to say hello, like he was pretending Castiel wasn’t there at all.

Just more of the same, really.

“I guess I’ll be going then,” Cas murmured as Sam picked up the rake again.

Sam turned and faced him, thermos still in hand, and his eyes went endearingly wide. “Hey, no, why don’t you stay for dinner? Least I could do.”

Cas hesitated, waiting on Dean’s cue. _Yeah, sure, neighbor! Come on in!_ But no such proclamation came, and Dean actually appeared to be glowering at them. So Castiel shook his head as politely as he could.

“Thank you, Sam, but I do still have a lot of papers to grade. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very good company.”

Sam smiled ruefully and rattled the thermos. “Well thanks again for this. I’ll get it back to you soon.”

“Take your time.”

Cas stepped off the curb and paused behind the Impala. Dean was staring at him.

Castiel nodded almost imperceptibly and clamped down on the fluttery feeling in his chest. All the suspicious intensity in those clear green eyes was driving him crazy – he needed to get back across the street, back to a safe distance. “Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean grunted in response and stomped to the front door, legs bowing and bags swinging.

With one more wave to Sam, Cas went back to his own home with his clean front yard. He wasn’t entirely sure why Dean Winchester hated him, but it wasn’t doing Castiel any good hanging around puzzling it out.

 

There was a knock on his door the following weekend.

It was Sam Winchester, in another beanie and (thankfully) a zipped up windbreaker, and he was holding a Tupperware with a red lid. The familiar thermos rested on top of it. “Hi, Castiel,” he said happily.

“Hello, Sam,” Cas replied, leaning against the doorframe. “What can I do for you?”

Sam smiled, bright and unabashedly. “Actually,” he said, stepping forward. “It’s what _I_ can do for _you_ ,” he corrected, extending the Tupperware and thermos. It was very… dorky.

Cas took the bundle and peered through the side of the container. “Are these… sugar cookies?” he asked. He didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but he was touched by the gesture all the same. His students would love some, he was sure.

Sam slid the beanie up his hairline a little and looked at Castiel’s shoes, smiling nervously. “Yeah, um. Dean actually made them. Figured I’d pay you back for the chai. The cinnamon reminded me of you,” Sam said.

Castiel blinked in surprise. Not just at the sweet notion that Sam thought specifically of Castiel when he smelled cinnamon, but at the admission that _Dean Winchester_ baked _sugar cookies_. Snickerdoodles, Castiel thought they were called. How absurd.

He’d seen him coming up the drive in the evening in his smeared overalls, sweaty hair, scuffed work boots. Cas has seen him frowning more than he’s seen him smiling. He was generally gruff and unpleasant on the best of days and other than a questionably metro scarf, absolutely nothing indicated that Dean would gently knead sugar dough on his free autumn weekends. With those steady, calloused hands…

It was unexpected, but Castiel somehow managed to find the decency to say, “Thank you, Sam, that’s very thoughtful of you. And tell Dean thank you for me as well.”

“Aw, sure,” Sam said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Would you like to come in?” Cas asked uncertainly, wondering why Sam wasn’t skipping away at the first opportunity.

Sam glanced over Cas’s shoulder, like he was just imagining stepping foot into his home. “You’re not busy grading?” he asked warily.

Cas shook his head and stepped aside. “Not at all. Please, come in, Sam.”

Sam grinned and hopped up the little ledge into Cas’s front hallway. “Always wondered what it looked like in here,” he confessed, unzipping his jacket.

 

They quickly began a little routine. Every weekend, more or less, when neither of them was working Sam would come over and hang out with Castiel after he’d finished helping Dean with the yard work. They played chess, got into stimulating book debates, and shared puppy videos on their phones while they pretended to watch football. It was nice to have a friend in the neighborhood; Castiel didn’t get out much with all his hours spent at the university, and Sam didn’t either since he was too busy working overtime, late into the evenings during the week.

Which was honestly a shame – Sam was such a bright soul. He fell into new relationships with his whole heart, always picked up after himself when he stayed for meals (not very often – Castiel could never compete with Dean’s cooking, so he’d been told), and constantly tried to involve Castiel in new things. Mini golfing with him, Jess, and Dean. French films at the cinema – Dean loves movies. Barbeque at Dean’s house. Cas rejected every idea, and Sam was starting to catch on.

“Cas, we’re friends, right?” he asked over his issue of GQ. His feet were propped up on the coffee table. His socks didn’t match.

Cas yanked his own magazine below his chin so that he could meet Sam’s eyes. “Of course, Sam, why would you ask such a thing?”

Sam shrugged and flipped some hair out of his eyes. He set his magazine down on his chest. “I don’t know. You just never seem to want to go do anything with – I mean, I don’t _mind,_ of course, but…” Sam’s mouth screwed up in that unhappy way of his. “You don’t… have a problem with _Dean_ , do you?”

Castiel’s traitorous heart sped up. “No, not at all.”

_I only think your brother is the pinnacle of creation and he can’t even be bothered to acknowledge my existence._

Sam narrowed his eyes a little bit and sat up straighter. He had always been too perceptive; Castiel was sure he made a fantastic lawyer. “Because you never come over, even when I invite you. You’ve lived here, what, a couple years now? Have you ever said two words to each other?”

Cas frowned and busied himself by turning a page he hadn’t even read yet. “‘Good morning’ is two words,” Castiel muttered pathetically.

“Castiel.”

Cas sighed and threw his head back against his chair. “I would feel… uncomfortable intruding on his space without his permission. Your brother…”

He paused. How to best phrase this to one’s adoring younger sibling?

“Your brother is difficult to get to know.”

Sam turned the words around in his head for a while and nodded to himself. “Ok. That’s fair.” He dropped the matter, and they were both silent again. Cas determined that it was safe to proceed with his reading, thoughts of attractive, bristly men across the street banished from thought.

 

Exactly twenty-four hours later, there was another knock on Castiel’s front door.

“Just a minute, Sam, I’m not quite – oh.”

The wrong Winchester was standing on his front porch.

Castiel tilted his head in confusion as he shuffled his feet in the doorway. “Hello, Dean. Can I help you with something?”

Dean was frowning, as usual. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Castiel hesitated. “Um… nothing of import–”

“Do you want to come over for dinner? I mean,” Dean blurted.

Castiel truly couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Oh,” he replied helplessly.

 _His eyes are very green up close_ , he thought.

Dean slumped his shoulders. “Look, man, I know you may not like me much but –”

“No, that’s not at all what –”

“ – but all Sam ever talks about these days is _you_ , so do me a favor and just come over, ok? Play nice for a while.”

Castiel was completely bewildered. “I don’t dislike you, Dean.”

“Right,” Dean scoffed skeptically. “So are you coming or not?”

“Alright,” Castiel answered.

That green-eyed disaster nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “Glad we understand each other. Dinner’s at 6.”

He slapped Cas on the shoulder and with that, Dean hopped off of Castiel’s porch and swaggered back over to his own home, head down and hands in his pockets.

Castiel wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, but he was absolutely certain that Dean was mistaken when he claimed the two of them understood each other.

 

Sam was all big smiles and combed hair when Castiel came to dinner that night. He was particularly enthusiastic about the woodshed in the backyard that he helped build (Dean did most of the work), which he showed off almost immediately upon Castiel’s arrival like some sort of preening bird. “It is excellent craftsmanship,” Cas remarked, tilting his head to inspect the crossbeams.

Sam practically started _glowing_ and eagerly began chatting about how Dean was always fixing things around the house; lights, wobbly furniture, the burner on the oven that wouldn’t click. Cas could see all of that care reflected in Dean’s home – it was nearly spotless.

Dean himself hung back for the duration of the praise, for some absurd reason that Castiel suspected had to do with the fact that he _did not like Castiel_ – he barely said anything until Sam directed a question at him or prompted him to elaborate on a project. “This hallway used to be _covered_ in this gross floral wallpaper before Dean got to it. Dean, how’d you get it off again? Fabric softener or something?” And Dean would turn a little red, rub the back of his neck, nod, and mumble something about soap to water ratios and peeling off a vinyl surface layer.

Cas got the distinctive feeling that it was not _Dean’s_ idea to have him over for dinner. He also had a sneaking suspicion that he was being baited – Sam deliberately only brought up topics that made Dean look good or that Dean could speak on. He suspected Sam wasn’t convinced as he had hoped the other day when he’d said he had no problem with his brother, whom he clearly loved despite his thorniness.

Then, of course, there was the troubling fact that Sam always seemed to want to do things with Cas and Dean – together. Movies, barbeques, _mini golf_ for Christ’s sake.

Wait. Holy shit. Was Sam trying to set him up?

 

Dinner was awkward. The food itself was fantastic – lasagna, Dean’s recipe – and Sam once again made a point to let Castiel know just how much effort Dean put into it. Dean turned bright red and kicked him under the table very indiscreetly. His freckles stood out against his flaming skin, and Castiel couldn’t believe he’d gone so long in life not knowing Dean had freckles at all.

He was definitely caught staring, and if it were possible Castiel would say he reddened even more.

Sam kept shooting him patient smiles across the table.

After all the stilted small talk and platitudes and mostly Sam filling weird silences, he led Cas to the door, Dean trailing pitifully behind them.

“Well, it was good seeing you, man,” Sam said cheerfully, clasping Cas’s hand in one of his and hooking the other around his elbow. “Don’t let those kids push you around too much,” he added, smiling.

Cas shook Sam’s hand with a tiny smile. “Likewise, Sam. Thank you.”

Sam stepped back from their friendly handshake and headed for the driveway, clicking the unlock button on his keys for his own car and shaking his long hair out behind him. “See ya, Dean!” he called over his shoulder, waving a hand behind him.

Castiel heard Dean grumble behind him and turned, half expecting the older Winchester to immediately slam the door on him and grunt some sort of warning to get off his lawn.

Instead, Dean had his arms crossed over his chest and was leaning against the doorframe, just a pace behind Castiel, staring at his brother’s car. He made no move to shut the door. He met Castiel’s eyes after a moment of ignoring his persistent stare.

“What?” he asked, gruff as ever.

Castiel tried to smile. “Thank you for inviting me over, Dean. Dinner was excellent.”

Dean scoffed again and broke eye contact.

Castiel persisted. “You have a lovely home.”

“Ok,” Dean said, standing up a little straighter. “You can drop the act, Sam’s gone already. Quit sucking up,” he grumbled, reaching for the door.

Castiel wedged his foot up against it with surprising force. “I’m not ‘sucking up,’” Castiel hissed, air quotes and everything. “Frankly I don’t understand what your problem is with me.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “My prob – I don’t have a problem with you!” he spluttered.

“So you keep saying, but you’ve been quiet all night,” Castiel pointed out. “I realize that Sam may have goaded you into this, but you could have just as easily refused if you find the idea of spending an evening with me so abhor–”

Before he could finish his thought, Dean surged forward on the balls of his feet and kissed Castiel right there in his doorway.

All protests were effectively wiped from his mind. Any point he had been trying to make vanished completely from memory. All that concerned him right then was _Dean, Dean, DEAN,_ those full lips on his.

Dean pulled back with a loud smack and blinked at Castiel before he really even got to enjoy it. His eyes were wide and his mouth was still parted, face frozen in a mask of horror. Castiel had no idea what emotions were playing across his own face, but before he had the chance to say anything Dean jumped back into the house like he’d been electrocuted.

“Night!” he yelped.

Castiel got a door slammed in his face after all.

 

Castiel cancelled his lawn service. He started to rake his own leaves on the off chance he would either a) see Dean working outside also and muster enough courage to shout his undying love across two lanes of traffic, or b) cajole Dean into stepping outside his house and doing the same for him. Maybe.

It had been two very long, agonizing days without any sight of a Winchester.

He was outside raking again, for what seemed like the fifth time in half as many days, and made sure to go as slowly as possible. His front yard wasn’t that large, but if he worked in small circles he could stretch the task to fill a little over an hour. He inspected his pitiful, tiny pile of leaves and sighed. No Dean today, either.

He dropped the rake and crouched carefully to his knees. Sam had enjoyed lying in a leaf pile; maybe it would lift Castiel’s spirits too.

He sighed, and a few leaves by his cheek waved with the force of it. It was on its way to getting dark outside – the sky was slowly ripening, hot tones of purple and pastel bleeding into the last dregs of daylight. The stars would be out soon. The ground was cold at Cas’s back.

“I can just pretend I didn’t see that,” a voice murmured beside him.

Off to his left, Dean Winchester was fidgeting on the curb.

Cas sat up a little, brushing some of the damp leaves out of his hair, and shrugged. “Sam gave me the idea.”

“Of course he did.”

Castiel shrugged again, but didn’t make the move to stand. “He asked me not to tell you about it.”

“Right. Good job with that.”

Castiel hesitated and held Dean’s gaze.

He inhaled. “Would you… like to join me?” Cas asked cautiously.

There was no immediate movement, and he was afraid that he’d scared Dean off. But then Dean fixed his mouth in that determined expression, the same one he got while raking, and crossed the short distance from the street to Castiel’s side. He fell to his knees and joined Castiel in the leaves.

Dean leaned back and braced himself on his hands. Their fingers could almost touch if Castiel would just slide a little closer.

“What are you doing here, Dean?” Castiel asked quietly.

Dean sighed and kicked his foot through the edge of the pile half-heartedly. “I don’t know, man. Figure I owe you an apology.”

Cas leaned back, copying Dean’s posture. Their fingers still remained only inches apart. “For what?” Castiel encouraged.

Dean rolled his head back. “Jesus, you _know_ what. For… attacking you, the other night. That was out of line, and I’m sorry.”

Castiel shook his head. “I’ll admit I was caught a little off guard, but you may remember that I didn’t object,” he murmured.

Dean seemed to think about this, choosing to remain silent for a few moments more before saying, “I’ve also been kind of a dick to you.”

Castiel nodded. “Now that certainly merits an apology.”

Dean groaned softly and fell back into the leaves, folding his hands over his sternum. He blinked up at the softening sky and smiled a little. His eyes were only half open, his lips parted in peace as he breathed in the earthy damp smell of autumn leaves and cut grass. “You know, Sam’s full of shit half the time, but this is actually kind of nice.”

Castiel waited.

There seemed to have been a lot of miscommunications between Dean and Castiel in the fews years that they’d been neighbors, so Cas was content to just sit and wait for Dean to sort out what he wanted to say. He was sure it would be worth it after all this time to get an explanation for all the odd behavior.

“I’m not good with… people,” Dean said at last. “People I like, anyway,” he clarified.

He swallowed and shrugged against the ground. “You’re just some distant, successful guy, you know? You tend to keep to yourself and, just, I don’t know. I don’t have any business bothering you. You don’t talk much, and sometimes you stare at me all squinty like you think I’m doing something wrong. Besides, you only ever want to hang out with Sam. And yeah, ok, I kind of resent you for that a little bit. He’s my brother, man, and I hardly ever get to see him. Get your own.”

He took a deep breath, and Castiel slowly tried to process all that he’d heard.

“So,” he tried to rationalize. “You don’t think you deserve to be my friend, you doubt I’m interested in you at all in favor of your brother, and you’re jealous because I’m monopolizing his time?”

Dean splayed his hands. “Yeah, I guess!”

“Dean, that’s ludicrous.”

Dean huffed an impatient sound, and Castiel paused. “So the other night–”

“I don’t know, it all just sort of… boiled over,” Dean admitted, going red in the face again. Once again, Castiel couldn’t help noticing the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “You’re kind of hot, man. I couldn’t help it.”

A slow smile spread across Castiel’s face. He finally laid back and placed his head beside Dean’s, smiling at his profile. Dean was determined not to look at him.

“Well I’m glad we sorted that out,” Castiel said at last. “You shouldn’t bottle things up like that.”

Dean scoffed. “You really are spending too much time with Sam. He tells me the same thing.”

Castiel smiled. “Your brother just wants you to be happy. Which is why, I suspect, he keeps trying to get us alone together.”

Dean let go of a tiny laugh, brilliant and breathtaking, and nodded slightly. “He really went all out for dinner. I haven’t seen him schmooze like that since his law school interview.”

Castiel chuckled and scooted a little closer to Dean – the leaves crunching underneath him belied any nonchalance he had been aiming for. “Dean, I… I don’t think Sam was pushing us solely on your behalf,” he said.

Dean froze for a moment and rolled more onto his side, looking Cas straight in the eyes. “What do you mean ‘solely on my behalf?’” he asked gruffly. “You mean to tell me this whole time I’ve been giving you the cold shoulder and you like me anyway? Dude,” Dean admonished.

Castiel kept on smiling. “I can’t help it. There’s something stubbornly charming about you.”

Dean’s eyes flicked down to Castiel’s mouth, and then back up to his eyes. Back down again. Up. He licked his lips and brought a hand up to Castiel’s face.

Castiel knew what came next.

Dean reached right past Castiel’s ear and pulled a piece of an orange leaf from the wreckage of his hair. “You had um. A leaf.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and grabbed the front of Dean’s jacket. He was done waiting for his stupid neighbor to get his act together.

He kissed him, under the setting sun on his front lawn, and Dean kissed back, rolling in the foliage.

 

“I’m sorry, you did what now?”

“I watched you rake leaves, Dean.”


End file.
